“That’s not progress,” my father says. “All your wonderful Towers did was open up a market of children who work for even less than they made before. They’re not liberated. Their minds are their new sweatshops.”

I yawn. I can hear my dad still speaking, but it’s like listening from a great distance, and though I try to focus, it’s no use. I can sense the world of dreams hanging within reach, a curtain that simply needs parting. The fork drops from my hand and clatters against the plate.

“Sorry,” I say and open my eyes.

“Evan, are you okay?” Dad asks.

“I’m tired.”

“So then you’d say you’re a night owl rather than an early-morning riser?”

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

My father puts his hand on hers. “Honey, isn’t there cake? You could serve that now, right?”

Mom gets up to go cut it.

“What’s up with Mom?” I ask when she’s out of the room. From the kitchen, we hear her humming a pop-up jingle.

“Your technology is what’s up with Mom. She’s been asking me the same questions. Some insta-quiz that’s leaking into her brain.”

“Why doesn’t she just focus away from it?”

“How? You want to tell me that, Evan? What about taking some time to sit with her and helping her understand how to deal with this new technology you’ve put in her head? I messaged you a thousand times, but you never answer.”

“I was busy with work. Besides, it’s not that hard. Just focus on the thoughts you want.”

“Do you have any clue how difficult it is to control this at our age?” He motions to his head. “I paid someone your age to come talk with Mom. You know what he did? He taught her how to play Thoughts with Friends. Now she sits up at night sharing her stream of consciousness with completely random people who send her ads for fantasy vacations. I try to tell her to rest, but neither of us can sleep. Every night I’m filtering through a thousand thoughts about specials on prescription meds, women I don’t want to talk to, consciousness-server updates, and mindless chats. I can barely keep my thoughts focused right now to have this conversation with you because there is a half-naked woman in my mind trying to sell me GRE prep tests.”

“Dad, you just need to spend some more time controlling your thoughts. I could show you some basic things, but it’d be a thousand times easier to download a thought tutorial.”

“Listen to me. We’re leaving. That’s what I’ve wanted to tell you for the last half a year. Your mom needs her mind back, and I need peace and quiet. We want you to come with us. I’ll pay for your plane ticket, you just need to make sure your passport is current.”